


Home is where the rest of you are.

by Kei (strawberryjambouree)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Non Binary Kenma, OT4, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 08:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6796540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberryjambouree/pseuds/Kei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angry tears track their way down their face as they stiffly pull on a pair of Keiji's sweats and one of Kuro's ridiculously oversized hoodies, pausing to bury their face in Bo's pillow, just to be fair. They miss their boyfriends so much. So much. It's a physical pain now, crackling just behind their ribs, and they know they'll have to try and rid their face of tearstains, otherwise Suga will worry. Suga has already been kind enough to offer them company, and in any case, Kenma doesn't deserve to be worried over. It isn't like it matters anyway.</p><p>They freeze.</p><p>Oh no.</p><p>Of all the days for the intrusive thoughts, the grey-tones jabs, the deathly sharp self-hatred to invade their mind, it just has to be when Bo and Kuro and Keiji were all gone halfway across the country.</p><p>This is shaping up to be the worst birthday Kenma has ever had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home is where the rest of you are.

**Author's Note:**

> This work contains one homophobic slur and several mildly detailed depictions of depression and a suicide attempt. If these are not things that you feel comfortable reading about, I would suggest reading a different fic.

Kenma wakes up to the smell of something sweet and rich.

They blearily sit up and wipe their eyes free of residue. Sunlight pools in the dips of the thick blanket around them, and they squint their eyes to ward off its sting. It's warm, the dead middle of summer, but they still get cold at night without their usual trio of human furnaces under the covers with them.

Four days already Kenma has spent, completely alone.

Their heart twists a little bit. Their boyfriends should be back in a few days. The three of them all played on a national level, after all— the absence of their bodies in the bed was nothing new. But today it hurt a little more. It was Kenma's twenty-second birthday. It had never been missed before.

Kenma warily opens their eyes, and the sun has lost its sting, so they allow themself to look around the otherwise empty bedroom. A giant bed, enough for four people and maybe one more, if that ever happened, a huge window looking out onto the bright street outside the apartment complex, and pictures pinned everywhere. They crowd around the headboard, cluster around the window-frame, and are even awkwardly shaped into a heart above the door. Those are Kenma's favourite pictures, even if they struggle to see them sometimes. Those are the ones the four of them took with all of their friends— even from here, they can see Shouyou's brilliant sunbursts of orange and Kei's head peeking up just above everyone else's. And everywhere, Bo and Keiji and Kuro and them, Kenma, happy and together and touching...

Kenma absentmindedly runs their hands through their hair, the way Kuro always likes to, though it never sticks up anything like his does. But Kuro isn't here to muss up their hair. No one is here with them.

Wait.

Then why does it smell like apple pie?

Kenma launches themself off the bed wearing nothing but boxers as their heart imitates them and launches itself up their throat. They stumble as fast as they can into the kitchen, a tiny "Kuro?" bubbling out—

"Oh, Ken-chan! You're up. Your boyfriends just called and told me to make sure you didn't get too lonely. Happy birthday!"

Kenma can feel their heart turning to cold steel and sliding back down, much lower than it had been before. It settles in the pit of their stomach and stays there.

"Thank you, Suga-san," they mumble. "Sorry, I thought— nevermind. I'm going to get dressed." They flush at the thought of one of their closest friends seeing them wearing practically nothing and scurry away, embarrassed and disappointed beyond belief. Of course Kenma's boyfriends hadn't thrown away such an important game just to bake them a pie. How _stupid_ had they really been, to think that?

Angry tears track their way down their face as they stiffly pull on a pair of Keiji's sweats and one of Kuro's ridiculously oversized hoodies, pausing to bury their face in Bo's pillow, just to be fair. They miss their boyfriends so much. _So much_. It's a physical pain now, crackling just behind their ribs, and they know they'll have to try and rid their face of tearstains, otherwise Suga will worry. Suga has already been kind enough to offer them company, and in any case, Kenma doesn't deserve to be worried over. It isn't like it matters anyway.

They freeze.

Oh no.

Of all the days for the intrusive thoughts, the grey-tones jabs, the deathly sharp self-hatred to invade their mind, it just _has_ to be when Bo and Kuro and Keiji were all gone halfway across the country.

This is shaping up to be the worst birthday Kenma has ever had.

More tears escape their tightly-shut eyes, soaking into Bo's pillow, drenching it in salt. The sobs come quietly and they try so, so hard to muffle them, but nothing gets past Suga.

He gently pushes the door open and sits quietly next to the tiny person curled up in cold sheets, crying their eyes out. He waits, as he has learned to with Kenma. When they feel comfortable enough, they'll seek comfort. Until then, offering it only makes them feel worse. There isn't a real explanation for it, or at least none that Kenma has given to anyone else, but it's important, and so Suga waits.

But the crying doesn't let up and Suga knows he has to do something. That was something Kuroo had told him— sometimes Kenma can't ask for something they need, because they are too far gone, too deep in their mind. Sometimes they don't even realize there's another person next to them.

It's a delicate balance, trying to determine if touching Kenma will make it much better or much, much worse, but Kenma seems to be having severe difficulties with breathing, so Suga slumps down next to them and slowly turns their limp body around to lay on their side, facing towards him.

He knows what it's like, or at least part of it. The scrabbling panic, the crushing weight of feeling alone. He doesn't think he has ever felt it as deeply as Kenma has, though. He knows Kenma has some sort of issue with abandonment, and with bullying in that year before high school, when they suffocated without Kuro by their side to ward off those who sneered at their sexuality.

Suga has only seen Kenma's reaction to the word "faggot" once, and were he religious, he would never stop praying for Kenma to never have to hear it again. He doesn't think he's ever felt so much second-hand pain in his entire life.

He begins combing his fingers through Kenma's tangled hair. The blonde has almost completely bled out, visible only at the very tips. It's almost a tradition to completely dye it again on their birthday. Kenma whimpers and burrows into Suga's chest, clutching at his shirt with the sort of desperation that would break Suga if he tried to pull away. He doesn't, of course. He doesn't think he could ever be that cruel.

Slowly, slowly, Kenma calms down, their sobs dying down into wet hiccups. They shuffle back a bit, mumbling, "Sorry. I ruined your shirt."

"It can be washed. It's fine. How are you doing today?"

Kenma looks up into Suga's soft brown eyes and longs to see Kuro's sharp gold ones, or Bo's shining hazel ones, or Keiji's deep green ones instead. "Not good." They swallow painfully. "Lonely."

"Yeah?" Suga smiles gently, and though Kenma knows he isn't mocking them, the thought still floats lazily to the forefront of their mind. "You want me to call some people over?"

"...Sho. And I guess Tobio can come along too."

Suga laughs a bit at this. "Actually, I think they were already planning to show up unannounced. And now that I think of it, I think your boyfriends called as many of us as they could to make sure you weren't alone today. Dai's coming over in a bit with ice cream as soon as he finishes some late paperwork or something."

Kenma blinks, surprised.

Suga pulls them to his chest again. "They would never let you be alone on your birthday and neither would the rest of us. We know how important it is to you."

Kenma knows. They had all apologized so much when the date of their game was released. Kuro had worried an exceptional amount. Kenma's depression tended to follow a cycle, and their birthday happened to fall on that twilight time between okay and not okay. They feel their face heating a bit as they recall their early birthday gift, which they had received about a foot to the left of where they were laying right now.

Their birthday was just so... _important_ to them. To all of them. It proved that Kenma had made it another year, that they hadn't let the thoughts consume them, that they hadn't done what they almost did in that year before high school when it all went to shit—that they hadn't flung themself off a bridge, leaving behind only a crumpled sheet of paper with the words "I'm sorry" shakily written across it.

Kenma remembers Kuro finding that paper in their drawer one day and knowing, somehow, what it was. They remember the kisses and pleas that followed, the tears that flowed so heavily they could have rivaled the river Kenma had wanted to drown themself in.

 _Shit_.

Now they miss Kuro even more, and, worse than that, they're thinking of the river. This is not good.

Suga seems to notice the change and carefully leads Kenma up and out of the bedroom, sitting them at the table and shooting off texts left and right. Kenma stares into empty space. The more they try to not think of rushing water, the louder it gets.

Suga pulls the pie out from the oven. It's golden and speckled with cinnamon, just the way Kenma likes it. It gives them something to focus on with more than one of their senses, the sight and smell of the baked apples and the sound of Suga's soft voice.

"Kuro actually made this and forced it into our freezer the day before he left," Suga says, setting the pie on the stovetop to cool. "He really thought a lot about today."

"Y-yeah," Kenma swallows, for lack of anything intelligent to say. The longing is threatening to close off their throat, but the smell of the pie, warm and like home, lessens the feeling. They can at least breathe somewhat properly now.

The doorbell trills and Kenma knows it's Noya. No matter how many times he was reminded, he would always ring instead of knock. That was just something about him that refused to change. Asahi found it endearing and Kenma found it decidedly aggravating, but they had agreed to disagree in that unspoken way fellow introverts often do.

Suga bustles over to let him in, and he bursts through the door like the tiny whirlwind he is, followed by Asahi, Shoyo, Tobio, Kei, and Tadashi.

Kenma feels their heart stutter with some emotion they can't quite identify, some weird mix of spiking anxiety and draining relief. Relief wins as their friends take turns hugging them and ruffling their hair and dropping little gift bags on the table.

"Oh, you didn't have to—"

"Yes we did," Kei cuts them off, and that's that.

The eight of them eat the pie and it isn't the same without Kuro or Bo or Keiji there, but it isn't bad anymore. The river's roar dulls as Kenma unwraps their handful of presents— two new games, a hat with cat ears sewn on, and a sleek bottle of liquid eyeliner.

Kenma flushes at this, turning it around in their hands.

"Bokuto said you kept going back to look at it every time you guys went shopping," Tadashi says sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

"Thank you," Kenma says quietly. They look up with wide eyes. "Can you help me put it on?"

"Eh— no, Tsukki is much better than me at that!"

Kei glances at Tadashi out of the corner of his eye and shrugs. "I'll help, yeah."

Kenma slides out of their chair and tugs on Kei's sleeve, eyes shining. Suga laughs. "Aw, how can you turn down that face, Kei-chan?"

"Don't call me that," Kei grumbles, following Kenma to the bathroom. "And of course I wasn't going to turn them down, jeez."

They emerge again about fifteen minutes later, Kenma now sporting perfect cat's eyes.

"WAAAHHH! Kenma you look so cool and pretty and nice and wow! That really suits you!" Shoyo bounces around in his chair.

"Good job, Tsuki," Noya grins.

Tadashi stares at Kenma, then lifts his gaze uncertainly to his boyfriend. A tiny smile graces Kei's lips. "You want them, too?"

"Ah— well— if it's okay with Kenma to use their stuff—"

"It's fine."

Shoyo and Suga giggle as Tadashi rockets away, dragging Kei behind him and slamming the bathroom door shut.

"Five hundred yen says they come out with red lips and messy hair," Noya snorts.

"Make it ten hundred," Tobio smirks.

"Really, guys..?" Asahi sighs, but he's smiling.

Kenma looks around at their friends, all here just for them. The gifts lay brightly on the table, the apple pie sits comfortably in their stomach, and laughter fills their ears. The river is almost gone, a distant memory; it is completely forgotten as Daichi bursts in with vanilla ice cream— their favourite— and as Noya obnoxiously wiggles his eyebrows at Tadashi and Kei's red lips and messy hair.

Somehow Suga gets Kei to draw his signature black wings on everyone's eyelids and Shoyo and Noya drag them all into a million selfies, sending every single one off to Kuro, Bo, and Keiji.

And when evening falls and they have to go, Suga lingers long enough to make sure that Kenma's video call gets through to their boyfriends before leaving with a light, reassuring kiss pressed to the crown of their hair.

"Ah, was that Suga? Such a good mom." Kuro's voice crackles through Kenma's phone's speaker, and he grins up at his partner at home. Bo and Keiji sit on either side of him. They are smiling too.

The pain of loneliness surges up, but Kenma forces themself to focus on Kuro's voice as he continued talking, letting it wash over them, familiar and overwhelmingly comforting.

"We didn't win. We'll be home early tomorrow."

Kenma's heart springs to attention. "Tomorrow?"

"Just one more night, babe. You gonna be okay?"

"Y-yeah. I think so."

"Don't be afraid to call, okay?" Keiji leans forward a bit and his arms twitch, as if he is itching to envelope Kenma in a huge hug.

"Okay. I'm sorry you didn't win."

"It's alright. We get to see you sooner, right?"

They talk until Bokuto straight-up falls asleep on Kuro's shoulder, drooling all over him. Kuro and Keiji tell Kenma they love them about twenty times before hanging up, and Kenma sits on the couch, staring at the sliver of the moon visible through their balcony window.

They can all see the same moon.

It's a terrible cliché and unbearably cheesy, but it gives Kenma a bit of comfort. They shower and change into another set of their boyfriend's clothing before slipping beneath cold sheets.

They don't feel so cold tonight.

 

Kenma is woken up at six in the morning by three exhausted men stumbling their way to the bedroom, yawning profusely. Their voices are rough but quiet in the early morning softness.

"I have to shower."

"Just come to bed, Keiji, Kenma's not going to care if you smell a little bit."

" _I_ care."

"Bo, just let him take his shower."

"But I want to cuddle with everyone right _now_!"

"You can cuddle with Kenma right now, they're awake." Kuro's grinning face appears above Kenma's for about half a second, and then's he's being pinned down to the bed and kissed silly.

He laughs against Kenma's barrage. "You happy to see us, kitten?"

Kenma straddles Kuro's hips by way of response, kissing him lazily and open-mouthed. It's only when they have Kuro breathless that they sit up and clutch at his face, and whisper, "I missed you so much."

Bo takes his place to Kuro's right. He grins. "Do I get some kisses too?"

Kenma slides over to Bo's lap and gives him his fair share, making sure to tug on his bottom lip, just the way he loves it.

They tire themself out and flop unceremoniously between their two bulkier boyfriends, becoming immediately enveloped in warmth. They sigh happily, nosing into Kuro's neck as Bo's thick arms loosely circle their waist.

"Next time you're just going to come with us," Kuro whispers. "We'll save up for a new laptop that can run your programs and you can do your work from the hotel or a café or wherever." He presses his lips to Kenma's nose. "It's too cold without you."

Kenma feels like their heart is going to burst. "Okay" is all that comes out of them because they aren't sure they can manage anything else.

Keiji returns from his shower about twenty minutes later. Bo has long since fallen asleep— he could sleep on a roller coaster if he was tired enough— but Kuro is awake, and sidles over to let him have a turn with Kenma.

Kenma would never admit it, but while Kuro and Bo's kisses always make them feel indescribably _alive_ , Keiji is simply the best kisser of the three of them. Maybe it's because he always does something with his hands, running them behind Kenma's ears, or soothingly over their thighs, or lightly up their jawline. Maybe it's just because it's Keiji.

Kenma slowly responds to Keiji's lazy kisses, letting their tongues tangle and teeth snag painlessly on lips, sucking and pulling just a bit, just the right amount. His hands choose Kenma's thighs today, trailing from their knees up to their hips, where they rest.

When they break apart, they are both displaying their rare smiles. "I missed you too," Keiji says, nuzzling into Kenma's hair, responding to the unspoken words shining through Kenma's bright gold eyes.

He settles quietly between Kenma and Bo, lacing his fingers with theirs, and presses Kenma's knuckles to his lips. Kuro shifts back to their side and within seconds is lightly snoring. Keiji follows a few minutes later, breathing deeply against Kenma's spine.

Kenma squeezes his hand and falls back asleep as well. Their mind is blissfully blank. The river is like something from a childhood nightmare, ethereal and shrinking away the closer they get to it. It can't reach them now.

  
They wake up to the smell of something sweet and rich.

They smile.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe this was supposed to be shameless birthday smut.
> 
> I have absolutely no idea what happened.
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
